


Youth

by thegigasreactor



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Swearing, Tags May Change, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegigasreactor/pseuds/thegigasreactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 4999, and an alien race consisting of giant-ass, humanoid figures has invaded your home planet. What is your immediate course of action?</p>
<p>Send multiple, metal space pods full of children after them, you say?</p>
<p>What the fuck is your problem?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Basically a story about kids who fight monsters and kick ass. Well, that and fall hopelessly in love with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Youth

ENTRY_LOG_1628  
MIL_DATE_ MMMMCMXCIX_MARTIIS_17  
THREE-THOUSANDTH _YEAR_OF_ISOLONE_THE_NEW_HUMAN_FASCIST_SOCIETY  
CITIZEN_CODE_430012_NAME_KIRSCHTIEN_JEAN_CLAUS

My name is Jean Kirschtien. Soldier, citizen of the wonderful country known as Isolone, sarcastic asshole, fuck up extraordinair. Before we get into this whole “here’s my tragic life story now learn a lesson from my mistakes” bullshit, there’s a few things I’d like to say. If you’re going to take anything from this, please don’t let it be the shitty romcom that will slowly make itself present- if even for a short while. Because in a life or war and death, love is the least important thing you need to worry about. Also please note that if you’re reading this then I’m dead. Well, that or I just lost my tab, but c’mon, that’s such an anticlimactic situation- so just pretend I’m dead.

Back to the point, the way I have this tab setup is so it shows you my last entry, and then it shows to my first entry. And then my second, and third, and fourth- you get the point. Don’t expect the other entries to look like this one, or for them involve me talking directly to you, because that’s not how tabs work. All of the entries you’re going to be reading (look at you, sneaky, little fucker) will be just as I was living them, all thanks to my fantastically helpful Demur. 

Do you know that a Demur is? I probably should explain. The year is 4999, humans get genetically altered as embryos so that they can be “perfect” blah, blah, blah. Anyway, when we’re freaky little sea monkeys, the doctors and scientists come in with this super technology called a Demur. The Demur is joined with you and it becomes apart of your thinking conscience- it “helps your moral decisions and makes you a better citizen”, whatever the fuck that means. I have no idea why they feel they need to implant everyone with a little voice that tells them not to do bad things, but they do. If I haven’t established this already, the society I live in sucks ass.

I should introduce you to my Demur, I guess. My Demur is male and his name was Agoston. He was a bit of an ass, as you’ll see in my older entries. I’m not sure why I ended up with a male Demur. Usually Demurs are the opposite gender of the person whose head they live in. Yeah. I don’t get it either. Maybe because the scientist that thought that moral voices were good to implant in peoples heads were the ones who decided that a male having a male Demur is ineffective. Or whatever. A lot of the times it’s hard to tell if the person’s Demur is talking but they always leave SUBTLE, LITTLE HINTS. Okay I think that’s what Demur’s look like in text form. Oh well.

Okay I got way off topic here, whatever. Back to how logs are recorded in tabs. As a citizen ti is the law to have a certain amount of hours from your daily life that your “log” in your tab. The Demur’s job is to make a transcript of what you are doing in the hours that you’re recording. Creepy, right? So the Demur records all of your life- except for special situations- like this one. You’ll find the reason for this god awful “dear diary” entry in my last official log. But before you hear the end, I guess I’ve got to tell you a bit more.

I grew up in Zion, the government region of Isolone. The Kirschtein home consisted of a mother, father, and two sons. Our house was exactly the same as our neighbor’s and their neighbor’s and so on and so forth. My bedroom small, but not uncomfortably so. It had a wardrobe, a desk, and a bed. But only thing different about my room was the small box that contained the skeleton of my dead dog. I’m fucking with you. We weren’t allowed to have pets. Things tended to be controlled like that in Zion. The government wanted a “protected environment for future Scholars to learn and grow in”, as my mother put it when I asked why I couldn’t so much as hang a picture on my wall. Things like that were why I hated living as a the child of a lawyer and a teacher.

My first clear memory is of when I was two years old. It was my older brother, Adrien’s twelfth birthday and he had just received his title. Soldier. I remember both my mother and my father crying, but for two very different reasons. She was going to lose a son. His boy wasn’t going to be a Scholar and bring pride to the family name. My dad was an asshole like that. Because he left when I was so young, I hardly remember my brother at all. To me, he’s a faint silhouette in the back of my mind. I’d like to say that he changed they way I think about life and I regret losing him, but I can’t. After all, it’s hard to lose something that was never yours. 

I guess I should back up. Who know’s where the fuck in time you’re reading this from. In our amazing society everyone is assigned a role, or as we call it, a title. This title decides what they do with their lives- I know, really fucking controlling. There’s a grand total of three titles that a child can be placed into and they are as follows: 

Scholar- the smarties who go on to higher education to become teachers, doctors, scientists, engineers, et cetera, et cetera. Pretty much everyone wants to be a Scholar, even though a lot of them are nowhere as smart enough to be one. My parents were both Scholars; 

Soldier- if you happen to get soldier I wish you luck, Soldiers never live long, it’s a hard life full of pain, but an important life none the less. Soldiers are our protectors, they keep us from ever feeling the pain that the Gigas bring with them. Most people pray that the don’t end up as Soldiers, but there’s a select few that are crazy enough to want to be a one. Just in case you didn’t pick up my disdain, I’m not one of them;

And lastly, Denizen- Denizen is the second most preferred out of the titles. Most would rather live in poverty as a Denizen than die a young death as a Soldier. Denizens typically are the farmers, the shopkeepers, and most importantly, the procreators. If you’re sorted into Soldier or Scholar then you could live your whole damn life without making a single flesh monkey, but if you’re a Denizen, you fall under the R E P R O D U C T I O N A C T. I know, sounds menacing. Basically all it means is that Denizens have to make two kidzies in order for our society to function properly.

So those are our titles. Wait, shit. Sorry, I forgot to mention how your title is determined. I guess I could go back and edit all this in, but fuck it. 

When children reach the ripe old age of eleven, they take what’s called the Acumen. The Acumen is a glorified IQ test that tells you whether you’re going to be a Scholar or not. If you happen to be smart enough to be a Scholar, then you can either live in happiness as a Scholar, or you could always opt out (for reasons I’ll never understand) and choose to be a Soldier or a Denizen. If you’re not smart enough to be a Scholar then buckle up kiddo, your ride is about to get bumpy.  
All of the children who don’t pass the Acumen are then evaluated to decide whether they would do better as a Soldier or a Denizen. Here’s the tricky part, If you’re placed as a Denizen you can choose to become a Soldier (again, why?) but if you’re placed as a Soldier then you’re fucked. Soldiers get the short end of the stick because they’re the only title that can’t change. Everyone who’s assigned a Soldier, has to live, and die, as a Soldier.

And here’s the weird part about the Acumen, well besides it being a test that tells kids what to do with their lives. Even though you take the test when you’re eleven, the government holds on to your results until you’re twelve. I mean, it’s not that strange, but really? Do you really need an entire year to sort out what title we’ll get? You’re supposed to be a high functioning government but you can’t even score quizzes quickly.

Sorry. I really get off topic a lot. It’s something you have to get used to I guess. In fact I’m looking back on my old entries right now. Hot damn I was an annoying kid. Whatever, it doesn’t matter now.

I think that gets you pretty caught up. It’s a lot to take in, and I doesn’t help that I’m an awful writer. But I think we both can agree the life I lived was pretty shitty. Can you imagine living like this? It sucks, so try and have some sympathy for me? Especially when you figure out how much of an asshole I can be. But hey, you found my tab, and if you wanna know how the “Great Isolone” met it’s end, then you’re stuck with this jerk. Also, who would argue with a dead guy? That’s sinking pretty low if you ask me.

Anyway, you know enough so that you won’t get left in the dust when you read my first entry.  
Good luck with past me, he’s an even bigger shit stain than I am. 

What else?

Oh right. You know this already, but I thought I’d give you a fair warning. My life is not a happy one, and the events that are about to take place, only further prove that notion. 

With that, get your ass over to Log One.

**Author's Note:**

> pls let us know if there's any gaping mistakes that could end up killing someone
> 
> give us a kudos if you liked it,
> 
> or just maybe bc u feel bad.
> 
> what ever floats your boat.


End file.
